


Texas 349 to Midland

by schmevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmevil/pseuds/schmevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Castiel and a sleeping Dean take a drive, and try something new: talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Texas 349 to Midland

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dean/Castiel [Quick Fire 'Flash in the Pan' Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/deancastiel/462183.html).
> 
> Thanks Tammy, for the read through.

Castiel doesn't perch on Dean's shoulder. That's how Dean puts it: Castiel can't perch out on the hood of the Impala, like an over sized hood ornament, because he's busy with other, angelic business. But lately he's been around more and more, passing on warnings that skirt the limits of his job description. Going above his pay grade, Sam thinks, watching Castiel strain through not telling them exactly how to kill the powerful spirit that's been menacing travellers on Texas 349.

Rather than be frustrated by all the double speak, Dean encourages him. Every act of minor rebellion has Dean smiling like a proud parent. Over the past few weeks they've developed a kind of code. Maybe it's been longer, but Sam's going by how long _he's_ known that Castiel had given up the letter of the law for the spirit. Castiel staring into the middle distance means that salt isn't going to cut it with this spirit. Dean's squinting at him; that means that his brother's caught the same hint Sam did. When Castiel says this one is important, it means a seal is involved. The way he says it, low-voiced and insistent, means that angel politics keep him from saying exactly _how_ a seal is involved.

Sam's at his laptop, researching the spirit of highway 349, the moment Castiel pops out of the room. Dean's already checking his guns. He wants to ask, how do we know this isn't a trap? How do we know he isn't using us? He doesn't.

It's a long drive and Sam's at the wheel more than half the time. When he's not driving, Dean sleeps beside Sam, or on the backseat, even with the tape deck blaring Zeppelin and Sabbath. Sam wants to ask if he's getting any sleep at night. He doesn't. Instead he hassles his brother about nap time; asks him if he wants a bottle of warm milk, instead of beer.

He's speeding, down a barren highway - nothing but scrub and the dark line of asphalt for miles around them - when Castiel pops into the passenger seat beside him.

"Sam."

"Jesus," he says, his hands tightening on the wheel. The car doesn't swerve, though. Dean would be proud. He quashes the momentary guilt at saying the 'j' word, and can't help a quick look at Castiel for a reaction. Maybe he's been spending too much time with Dean, but Castiel just stares through the windshield, like the highway ahead of them means something.

"Uh, hi. Dean's-"

"Sleeping." Castiel doesn't look at Dean, sprawled across the backseat, and instead hits Sam with one of his endless stares. His hair is blown across his forehead by the hot breeze, and fully covering one eye, but it's like he doesn't even notice. Castiel, even more than the demons Sam's met, doesn't seem to belong in a body.

"I wanted to talk to you."

Sam bites the inside of his cheek; bites back the first three things that he wants to say in response to that. "Ok," he says evenly. "What's up?"

"You think him weak."

"What the hell-" he says too loudly, then cuts himself off. Sam glances back at Dean now. He's still asleep, one arm awkwardly tucked against his chest, the other hanging off the seat. It doesn't look comfortable but his brother snores away, oblivious. "What the hell do you-" know, care, and how is it any of your business? Sam swallows all of that down, all of the anger, and yes, guilt. Getting angry isn't going to help here.

Castiel stares at him impassively.

Sam's gotten good at reading him. He's had to, with Castiel showing up three days out of four. But for all that Castiel has been pushing the limits of what it means to be a soldier in God's army, to be an _angel_, it's impossible to forget that is exactly what he still is. The flickers of emotion that he displays now, gone almost as quickly as they appear, drive home how very not human he is. Now though, there's nothing on the vessel's face. And how like an angel, how like _Castiel_, to say it so matter of fact, "You think him weak." As if there was nothing more to it.

But getting on the angels' bad side hasn't done anything for him yet. Not that being on their good side had done a lot for Dean. Still. "He came through for me Sammy." He remembers exactly how Dean said it. How every day he looks at the angel with a little more of what looks suspiciously like faith.

"He needs you."

"He needs the boy with demon blood?" Sam can't make that not sound bitter.

"Yes," Castiel says. There's nothing like apology in his eyes, but maybe something like regret.

And when Sam takes a leap, says, "He hasn't been the same," Castiel _knows_. That's how Sam ends up talking to Castiel, for maybe the first time. It's nothing like talking with Ruby, who's become his baseline for human to non-human communication. It hasn't escaped him that the more Castiel hangs around Dean, the less he sees of Ruby, who's made lying low into an art form. He wants to ask Castiel if that's his intention, or one of them; keeping the boy king from tainting his soul even further. He doesn't.

Dean wakes up, a few minutes after Castiel leaves, saying "pie," and "gotta take a leak," so Sam finds a good place to stop, while they refuel and go over their plan. While Dean is in the bathroom, Sam orders for them both. Incredibly, when the food comes, Dean is still in the washroom. Sam is left playing with his salad, and thinking. Too much, he can hear Dean say.

At some point, Sam had started to think of Castiel as Dean's angel. Dean's, like the part of him he prefers to ignore says, his, like Ruby is his. Castiel says that Dean needs him, which Sam already knew, but maybe this is the angel's idea of taking care of Dean; taking care of _them_. Unlike Ruby, who'd been human once, and Uriel who'd maybe stared into his own personal abyss for too long, Castiel has yet to figure out artifice. When he speaks, the full weight of his inhumanity is clear.

"God has work for him, Sam."

"Like the devil has work for me, right?"

"Only if you accept what he offers."

He doesn't perch, Sam thinks. Not because he's too busy, or it's not in his purview, but because it's not in his _nature_. But he can worry, and Sam thinks, he can care.


End file.
